| Like the moon pulls on the water
|
| and the water pulls the sand.
|
| Like starlight drifts a billion years
|
| to flicker once above your head.
|
| The cicadas in the oak trees
|
| are singing to the sky
|
| and I am calling out to you
|
| across this silent night.
|
| Come back to the valley,
|
| the green willow valley.
|
| In the cool of the evening,
|
| I’m waiting here for you.
|
| Can you feel the wings of birds
|
| whisper cross the sky?
|
| Can you hear the blades of grass
|
| calling to the light?
|
| There are rivers underground
|
| rushing cold and wild
|
| and I am calling out to you
|
| from across the lonely night.
|
| Come back to the valley,
|
| the green willow valley.
|
| In cool of the evening
|
| I’m waiting here for you.
|
| We’ll lie under the willows
|
| in a bed of fallen leaves.
|
| I will bring you apples
|
| and water from the stream.
|
| I will pull the thorns
|
| from your blistered feet.
|
| Can’t you hear me calling
|
| in the whisper of the trees?
|
| Come back to the valley,
|
| the green willow valley.
|
| In cool of the evening
|
| I’m waiting here for you. |